Lecterphillic Hospital
by LadyOfTruths
Summary: Written for Lecterphiles, about Lecterphiles, by a Lecterphile.
1. Your case file

DISCLAIMER:- This is a satirical piece, purely constructed for the enjoyment of fellow Lecterphiles. I have been given full consent to use the names, real or otherwise, of the people (Lecterphiles) featured in this story. I am in no way liable for defamation of character. Nor am I in any way affiliated with Thomas Harris, Anthony Hopkins, Jodie Foster or Julianne Moore. No Profit or gain is being made.  
  
Now enough of the legal dribble, let's have some fun, shall we?  
  
  
  
"Lecterphillic Hospital for Loving the Criminally Insane" -LadyOfTruths  
  
  
  
"No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness." -Aristotle  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Behavioural Science, the FBI section that deals with serial murders, or so it so avidly claims, is on the bottom floor of the Academy building at Quantico. Quin O'Grady, Special Agent, with a dual degree in psychology and refined neological science, approached one of the offices there, and confronted a large pale green door with a sturdy knock.  
  
His age is unpredictable, but we can presume that he is past the healthiest prime of his life. Quin O'Grady is not a young man. Apart from the streaks of grey in his hair, age seemed to be an insignificant issue that his features never had to battle. His skin was tanned and healthy, his build was lean and modestly athletic, and his eyes shined like pure gems. None of that surface shine, this was the real deal. Some may argue his flawless perception and eyesight is product of prescription contacts, but you can make that judgement yourself.  
  
No reply comes from within as his knock echoes through the hallway. O'Grady opens the door to find his boss, Section Chief Jacqueline Ford, ending her telephone conversation with a sharp 'Thank you'. He nodded at the younger, well-built woman, and took a seat in the chair opposing hers. The excitement in her eyes reflected through the cheap metal rims of her glasses, he briefly regretting being summoned at her request.  
  
"O'Grady, Quinton T., good morning" she said.  
  
" Mrs Ford" His smile was only polite.  
  
She flipped through the stack of folders on her desk, taking a minute to process the printed text on each form. " Quite an impressive record you have with us here, O'Grady."  
  
" I try." His response was brief, yet polite.  
  
" I'll cut to the chase. The men above me have found, shall we say.an interesting discrepancy amongst the minds of society. Usually it's none of our business, but forensics believe that through further investigation, some fundamental psychological and neurological profiles can be recorded." Her longwinded introduction left a lot to be desired.  
  
" You're familiar with Hannibal Lecter?" She asked again, slightly annoyed at his lack of response.  
  
Was she joking? This whole set up was a copy of The Silence of the freakin' Lambs.  
  
"I've read the books and seen the movie. Yes, I am familiar with his character" He was sure to emphasise the reality of his statement.  
  
" I realise this may sound a little.ridiculous Agent O'Grady, but the benefits to come out of this investigation will far outweigh its comical nature. Do I have your full attention?" Her eyes held his. To Quin, she sounded a hell ova lot like that Crawford guy.  
  
What the hell kind of joke is this?  
  
"Of course" He's play along for now. At least until he had an educated excuse to decline whatever case she was creating here.  
  
" You might be aware of the recently established Mental Clinic in Baltimore? The Lecterphillic Hospital for Loving the Criminally Insane?" She was serious. Her light hair stirred gracefully as she jarred her neck questioningly.  
  
"I'm familiar. The Tattler has printed a few articles."  
  
" Do you spook easily, O'Grady?" She peered over the top of her glasses.  
  
Ha. Where do these people get off?  
  
"No. Never"  
  
" There are some thirteen residence at the hospital, all self-confessed Hannibal Lecter addicts. We'd like to produce a psychological and neurological profiling database on the thinking patterns of such subjects. As of yet, no agent or journalist has left there in the same state as they entered." She opened another thick folder and shifted it across the desk. If she hadn't of been so intently focused, O'Grady would have laughed along with what appeared to be a finely crafted joke. " I hope you don't consider this below you, O'Grady." Whoops, had she read his mind? "The patients here should be interviewed with the same amount of trepidation you'd feel when faced with dangerous felons."  
  
Oh yeah, I've *really* pissed someone off!  
  
" What's the purpose of this investigation? Forgive me for being so direct, but what's the urgency? These people aren't out to hurt anyone." O'Grady moved forward in his seat, opening the folder to expose a think pile of forms and photos. " This hasn't got anything to do with that guy who's stalking Jodie Foster and Julianne Moore? I heard its gone federal now."  
  
Ford sharply interrupted him. " This investigation is for the sole purpose of establishing a new data base, Agent O'Grady. If you find yourself incapable of such a task, I'll call another office."  
  
"That won't be necessary Ms Ford." He nodded towards the pile of clumped photos. "These are the subjects?"  
  
"Yes, all thirteen of them. Now listen to me. I don't expect them to cooperate, they'll most likely find this amusing. Dr. Fredrickson, the head of the hospital, will go over the physical procedures you are to use with them. Don't deviate from them, this group is out to play with you. If they refuse to speak, just record normal behavioural patterns, how do they communicate, what are they doing, are the drawing, if so, what are they drawing. You know the run, O'Grady." She looked at him expectantly. " Your evaluation report is due on my desk by the end of the week."  
  
"Right." After skimming through a few of the sketchy profiles, he closed the folders and stood to leave.  
  
"Don't go in there with an apathetic attitude, O'Grady, this holds more value than you are aware" Jacqueline Ford rose out of her comfortable recliner to show him out of her modestly sized office. She pulled the length of her A-line skirt over her knees as if to attract necessary attention to her lower half. O'Grady's eyes never wandered. His lack of interest irked her.  
  
Yeah, that's right lady. Some people joined the Bureau to *work*  
  
" I'll have it on your desk at the end of the week. Good day, Ms Ford." She held the door for him as he made his way though the narrow, poster- cluttered hallway.  
  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Dr. Chilton Fredrickson, fifty-five, head administrator of the Baltimore State Lecterphillic Hospital for Loving the Criminally Insane, has a long narrow desk, piled with papers and cheap cards signed by acquaintances that he probably made up. He remained seated when Quin O'Grady came into his office.  
  
The foundation of O'Grady's dislike began as soon as their eyes met. Dr. Chilton Fredrickson sat at his cheap desk with his brightly shined shoes resting on the buffed corners. He needed a good shave, his dark moustache was running way of course, and hairs were sprouting out in an asymmetrical pattern across his face.  
  
" We've had a few detectives in here lately, but I can't remember one quite so attractive." He still sat casually behind his desk.  
  
Oh. My. God.  
  
"Dr. Fredrickson." O'Grady extended his hand unwillingly as he approached the desk. "Quinton O'Grady, F.B.I" He controlled the grimace which temped to splash over his features as his hand was gently, but wholly, grasped by that of the hairy Dr. Fredrickson.  
  
"Will you be staying in Baltimore for a while?" There was an energised twinkle dancing in his eyes.  
  
Let go of my hand asshole! O'Grady reefed his hand back to his side.  
  
"I'll be reporting back to my field office this afternoon" He lifted his briefcase up on Fredrickson's desk to place a barrier between them. " I was told you'd be briefing me about the procedures?" O'Grady's steely eyes gazed around the second rate office.  
  
Fredrickson stood hastily, his face blotted with spots of embarrassment.  
  
"Yes. On our way down." He waved his hand in the direction of the door.  
  
"Down?"  
  
"Yes, they all requested the bottom three floors of the complex. The basement is their favourite." His pace was brisk. All of a sudden, the keen intentions of Fredrickson that had been invested in O'Grady were simply gone. He seemed impatiently disinterested.  
  
Creep.  
  
" Each patient has his or her own room. Some prefer sharing." A large cluster of keys swayed and clinked with the fast momentum of his hips. " Interviews will be held in one of the smaller common rooms. There are selected patients that are locked into their rooms. They can be a considerable nuisance when they try, so you can interview them in their individual rooms."  
  
Fan-fucking-tastic!  
  
" I understand that most of the subjects are self-admitted. Surely they wouldn't pose a great threat?"  
  
"They're as dangerous as you allow them to be. One has bitten me once. They think I'm their nemesis." Fredrick continued as they walled down the ramp to the last floor. "Sign in and check your weapons in the foyer. Don't pass anything to them, or take anything from them. There are to be no sharp or potentially dangerous objects taken past the first gate. If at anytime you feel your own health is at risk, call for a nurse or orderly. These *things* are not criminals; they just adore a cannibalistic madman. You can decide for yourself how sane they are."  
  
"Well. Yes. That's why I'm here" O'Grady noted Fredrickson's reference to patients as 'things'.  
  
This guy really needs to shave!  
  
"Yes" He paused to flag down the orderly. " Harry will look after you from this point on."  
  
O'Grady barely mumbled his insincere thanks before Fredrickson turned his back in a swift exit. The steel door slammed shut. Before him, O'Grady met the eyes of the pale, ginger haired orderly, Harry. His clean white uniform crunched as he walked toward the front desk.  
  
" A-Agent O'Grady, is it? Pleased to me-meet you. I'm Harry." He failed to extend his hand, probably from nervousness.  
  
O'Grady nodded towards the frail boy. He was young. " Good morning."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Can I leave my things with you?" Someone had to be the first to speak.  
  
"Yes. Certainly sir. Did Dr. Fredrickson go over the protocol?"  
  
"Yes, he did."  
  
"Excellent. With who-whom do you wish to speak to first?" His voice was picking up speed with confidence.  
  
O'Grady paused a moment. Before him was a large iron gate, which blocked the foyer from what looked to be a large hallway of pale lilac doors, with tiny, circular windows.  
  
" I have a few names here that I'd like to start with" He opened the file to show the exuberant orderly.  
  
" Oh. Well he might be a little difficult to get to talk at this hour. Its best you leave him until you've got a better taste of the place.If you know what I mean"  
  
O'Grady raised his eyebrow. Obviously he didn't know what he meant.  
  
Think of the money O'Grady!  
  
"Ahh. Alright. Well how about I start with a few of the ladies then hmm?"  
  
Harry grinned and nodded. "Le-let me show you the way, Agent O'Gr-Grady"  
  
They checked his weapon and continued through to the other side of the gate.  
  
They stood for a moment, looking at each other, before Harry shifted his weight and broke the silence.  
  
"I'll leave you to it then. Ah, there's a chair in each of the rooms for you as well"  
  
"Yes. That's very good. Thank you."  
  
Harry smiled awkwardly and made his way back to the foyer. O'Grady stood standing alone in the middle of a long, intimidating hallway. There was no sound. After shuffling the papers, O'Grady finally found the profiles he was after. Rooms 21 and 22. He peered around for the rooms. At the end of the hallway, he saw a light shining out of one of the two rooms. He moved towards the left of the corridor as he approached, knowing that either the heavy thuds of his boots against the polished floor or the swoosh of his suit pants would announce him to whatever audience was waiting. For some odd reason, the situation seemed terrible rookie-like.  
  
"Christ! I feel like Clarice Starling" Was O'Grady's last thought before gently wrapping on door number 22.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N:- More soonish. I'm currently on a role of avoiding all the work I *should* be doing, so hopefully the next instalment (featuring the goodies) will be up soon. Feedback is much appreciated, just don't forget this story has been created purely for the enjoyment of my fellow Lecterphiles. If humour isn't your flavor, leave the last laugh for someone else. Thanks for reading ;) 


	2. Chimney Sweep

"Lecterphillic Hospital" 

Part Two: - Chimney Sweep  

Quinton O'Grady gave door numbered twenty-two a sturdy knock before rolling his weight back onto his heels. A throaty laugh sounded from the other side of the door. He accepted that as his que to enter. 

The movement of the door created turbulence in the thick air which waited on the other side. O'Grady's fist reaction was to fall into a coughing fit. 

_Smooth O'Grady!_

The moderately sized room was pale lilac in color, but the amount of smoke in the room made exact visibility rather difficult.  The area appeared to accommodate one, however the double bed had been shifted to the left of the room, in its place was a large sheet-structure shaped into a makeshift cubby-house. More laughs erupted from within.

O'Grady waved his hands to clear the smoke from his vision. He approached the tent but stopped a little distance from the entrance, the ends of the two draped sheets.  

"Ladies?" His voice sounded alright to him. He shifted the folder from beneath his arm and held it in both hands, waiting for a response. 

A brief rustling came from within. He continued. "My name is Quinton O'Grady. May I talk with you?" Courteous was implicit in his tone, he didn't want to walk in with an attitude that would startle them, or worse yet, make them feel inferior. 

A head popped out from between the two sheets. It was a female, shoulder length blonde hair, with the most unusual eyes. She didn't appear to be startled.

" Well. What do we have here?" She grinned in amusement.  Her eyes swirled in pools of colour. Around the pupil was a ring of red.

_Mental note: Subject One. Eyes like a lizard. Should be disconcerting, yet isn't._

The woman tilted her head in a brief moment of consideration, and then rose out of the tent in her own time. She was notably short. 

" Good morning, Mr. O'Grady. What can we do for you?" In her right hand she held a roll of coloured paper, smoke streamed from one end.

_Second Mental Note: Woman is smoking…paper?_

She watched his eyes assess her state and smirked. She would offer no answers until he asked.  He opened the file in his hand low enough for her to see its contents.

"Lee, is it? How do you do?" He humbly extended his hand. He watched her eyes tone down a shade. 

" I prefer Chameleon. For obvious reason." She accepted his hand with a small mischievous smile. 

From the corner of his eye, O'Grady saw the sheet move again. Another woman stepped out, though she seemed unaware of his presence. 

"Girl? Where'd you put that damn lighter?" Brown eyes searched the floor desperately. "You're messin' up the system I got going on." Hidden beneath her short dark hair, O'Grady could see an earpiece. A portable CD discman was attached to her hip.

Eventually she looked up to her friend, and over her shoulder. Cheeks reddened in sudden embarrassment. The Bee Gee's sang their hearts out into the silence. 

_  
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.   
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive._**__**

"Shoot! I hadn't realised we had company" She narrowed her eyes and looked to her friend.

"Bad Company!" The blonde screeched. 

O'Grady tried to hide his surprise. Apparently he'd missed the joke. Both women were now holding onto each other and their stomachs as rolls of laughter made a crescendo though the room.  These two seemed very comfortable around each other, almost sisterly.

He cleared his throat as if to remind them of his presence.

"Ladies. I'd like to speak with you both for a couple of minutes, if I may?" In the far corner of the room he motioned towards a wooden table seating four chairs.

They followed behind him, smirking madly. If he decided to turn around, he would have caught them winking at each other.  He was unaware of how appealing his rear view seemed to be.

"You must be Shawn then?" When they sat he eyed the taller, dark haired woman. 

She smiled. " Shawn. Hey you! Yo! Do you work here? Or Steel. The latter works best for me."

O'Grady returned the smile and placed the files on the table. He watched as the women sat, facing him.  They seemed humbly comfortable, which surprised him. They were more amused than alarmed. Perhaps they'd been expecting him?

" I'd like to start with a few questions.  I realise my visit may be somewhat imposing, and if at anytime you feel uncomfortable, please say so. I'd just like to speak to you, observe general behavioural patterns… " He reached into his breast pocket to retrieve a pen. " I am here to take notes, if you have any questions, I'd be happy to answer them."

"You're with the _F.B.I._" Steel accentuated. He was unsure whether it was a question or statement.

"Yes. That's right." O'Grady nodded, tapping the pen against the desk hoping for a fresh flow of ink.

" I don't suppose you're one of Jack Crawford's?" She went on, bitting the side of her cheek to prevent the showing of a huge smirk.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow "Errm. No. Jacqueline Ford is heading behavioural science at the moment." He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Now. Firstly, whose room is this?"

" Mine." Steel said.

"Do you two often share rooms? I see you've constructed a semi-permeant set-up for the room." He nodded toward the drape of sheets.

Both women turned a rose shade of red. " It traps the smoke, you see." Steel admitted quietly.

"Smoking ahh…whatever that is, is a part of your treatment syllabus?" O'Grady tried to avoid a mocking tone.

"Well. The story goes like this…" Chameleon jumped in before Steel could think up a quip reply " Steel admitted herself a few months ago and wrote to tell me about it.  I decided to visit once, to see how she was doing. To have a bit of fun I dressed up for the occasion so to speak, in a doctor's uniform.  Thing is, they thought that I actually was the new resident psychiatrist."

"And for that they decided it was best you stay here too?" O'Grady closed his eyes into tiny slits, the typical response mechanism of hard thought. 

 "Oh no." She paused a moment and looked over to Steel who was grinning. " Dr. Fredrickson insisted that after my little…performance, I was in desperate need of a physical.  He said that my delusional state would most likely result in chest pains, so he took me down to the dispensary." She sighed. "He started that psych dribble and so, _as you do_, I tried to talk him into eating his own tongue." She paused to gauge his reaction. "He almost bought it, he's not a real doctor you know, no PhD. Anyhow, I got impatient and he was getting a little too friendly so I lunged forward and attacked him. Unfortunately they managed to save both of his eyes..."  The small blonde sat back humbly in her chair, as if at peace with her admission.

O'Grady fought hard to conceal his surprise.  Quite frankly, the small woman had the power to intimidate the 6-foot federal agent. 

"And so that's why you are sharing this room?" He was still confused

"Fredrickson got a court order to put me away for awhile. My room has been fitted especially with a smoke detector, Steel's hasn't...yet."

O'Grady nodded, putting the pieces together in his mind. "And what exactly is it that you are smoking?" He glanced over at the burning butts held in the hands of each of the women. Steel had found her lighter.

Another giggle. " We make to with what we have, and what we have is the best" Steel replied and pointed towards a stack of back and white paper that stood in the far corner, next to the 'tent'. " Anthony Hopkins and Alan Rickman." Bursts of laughter followed.

O'Grady glanced over their shoulders. Sure enough there in the corner sat photocopies of the two famous actors.  They were smoking printed imagines!

_This is the craziest thing I've ever seen…and I've only just started!_

"You think this is bad?…Wait till you meet the rest of the gang!"

He took notes hastily as the women sat smirking.  He jotted down behavioural patterns, general appearance, condition of habitat and record of socialisation. They seemed content to watch him for a few minutes, but soon became restless. 

" So…Agent O'Grady, you haven't spoken much about your agenda here today." Steel questioned, pulling her seat closer to the table. "Really we all fit under the same category, just a 'nut with a crush'. There must be some other point to your visit…" She dropped off suddenly.

" Jacquelyn Ford is anxious to start a database." He replied looking up

Chameleon picked up where Steel left off " My, she must be busy with that Starling Stalker."

Silence. O'Grady was caught off guard.

"I expect so" He had fallen right into their trap.

The women looked at each other and then back to the undeniably striking FBI agent. 

"No. Not I expect so Agent O'Grady, you know perfectly well it's the Starling Stalker" They spoke in unison. 

_Oh my…_

"I've heard about it briefly." He honestly replied in a calm tone, overshadowing their disconcerting effect.

"So you haven't been sent here to ask us about that then? Tell us, what do you know about him, Agent O'Grady?" Steel asked.

Somehow they'd manage to turn the tables and shift the drilling focus onto him. "I just keep up with the newspapers; Caucasian male, late twenties, perhaps early thirties, dying obsession with Jodie Foster and Julianne Moore. He actually sees them as Clarice Starling and has taken to sending death threats… the usual stalker business. Why would I be asking you about him? Do you know something?" He wasn't expecting so.

" We might." Chameleon grinned.

O'Grady was in mid-sentence of further questioning when a loud shrill, followed by the thumping of a base, overpowered the silence. He cocked his head and looked about the room, it seemed to be coming from next-door.

"Psychotherapy! Dr. Fredrickson's _homebrand_ style." Steel turned down the blaring of her own discman and listened intently to the melody flowing on the other side of the wall. 

"There's legislation which prohibits unethical patient treatments." O'Grady stated, still amused by the high pitch squealing of, what he assumed was, a teenage girl. "I'll speak to Dr. Fredrickson when I see him". 

Both women snorted their amusement, and shook their heads empathetically. 

"Who are you seeing next?" Chameleon asked.

"I haven't decided, perhaps next door." He shuffled through the files in front of him, looking at the poor quality photographs.  "I wouldn't mind speaking to him today" He pointed towards the file second from the top.

Both women winced and then smirked. 

"Well, it's either the basement or the belltower. Your pick." Steel's eyes glittered with delight and challenge.  " I know where all the secret panels are around here, just tell me your destination, and I'll get you there." She laughed and watched as he allowed himself a smile of his own.

_Ohh yeaaah! Now there's a smile! _They both sat coyly back in their seats, slightly red in the cheeks. 

"I'll keep that in mind." The chair scraped across the tiled floor, as Quinton O'Grady rose to leave. He extended his hand politely to both women once more before speaking. " I'd like to continue this session, perhaps at a later date.  Thank you both for your cooperation." He stood, pushed his chair in and started towards the exit.

"Your welcome." Both women said, very gently.

Much the same on his way in, Agent O'Grady failed to feel two pairs of eyes move discreetly over his rear end, as he left the room. He did, however, hear the familiar chuckles as the door shut behind him.

He smiled to himself.

Tucking the folders under his arm, he made his way down the hall in a haste decision in regards to his next destination.

_Hmm this is more fun that I imagined._

He padded softly down the corridor, heading towards the elevator.  We are unable to see which button he taps, the top? Or the bottom…

_A/N: To my big sisters Steel and Chameleon- this one was obviously for you. We'll see more of you two later *wink*. Luna- perhaps you should hold off on that alternate ending, I feel guilty; I've had this done for quite a while. The next chapter, YOU ARE SO ON! Now I'm off…hmmm to the basement, or the belltower? ;)  More Lecterphiles coming soon to a ward near you!_


End file.
